Admitting Defeat
by peterbazooca
Summary: Chris avoids his paperwork by musing about his partner. Post RE5, please let me know what you think!


**Okay, my second attempt at a fan fiction! Huzzah! Just a Chris and Jill oneshot set after the group's return from Africa. I'm not sure how I like it, not sure if I did justice to the characters, so please let me know if something needs editing or improving. Any-who, please read on. **

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Chris Redfield tapped his pen against the surface of the metal work table he sat at, staring blankly at his half completed field report. Jill was scribbling away at her own report on the other side of the table, a look of intense concentration on her pretty face. Her blonde locks framed her pale visage, her brown roots beginning to reappear. Jill had told him that she planned to dye it back as soon as she got some free time, but the two of them, including Sheva and Josh, had been too busy with the cleanup after the Africa incident to have much time for anything, including sleep. The pale hair color seemed to bother his partner, but Chris kinda liked her new look. Of course he would never admit the preference to Jill, for fear of loosing a limb or two.

Chris sighed, tearing his eyes away from Jill and once more attempting to focus upon the report in front of him. He had just begun detailing Wesker's unveiling of his mysterious hooded assassin. Chris could clearly recall the surge of mixed emotions that had filled him when he'd realized it was his old partner, a woman he'd believed dead for almost three years. He'd been overjoyed to see her alive, wanting only to crush her in the ultimate bear hug. Then had come the overwhelming anger when he had realized what Wesker had done to her, what the bastard had put her through. She tried to hide it, but Chris would sometimes catch her gazing off at nothing, a heartbreakingly guilty and sad look in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Is there any particular reason that you're staring at me, Redfield?" Jill inquired, not looking up from her report for more than a second. Chris blinked, shaking himself slightly as he smiled at Jill.

"Just distracted once more by that shiny blonde hair, it's like a beacon for lost souls," Chris replied, paying for the jab as Jill glared daggers at him. Chris laughed at her expression, enjoying the free release of such a happy noise, a noise he'd made only sparingly since Jill's disappearance. The laugh was infectious, a virus anyone would be willing to catch, and Chris watched as a slow smile bloomed on Jill's face, transforming her haggard, exhausted features completely as laughter lit up her eyes, making them sparkle in the badly lit B.S.A.A workroom. Chris leaned back in his chair, memories flooding back to him; he viewed once more through his mind's eye Jill's sacrifice as she pulled Wesker through the window, disappearing completely. The funeral had been awful, though only attended by a few people. Jill's family had lived in Raccoon City their whole lives and had fallen prey to the heinous virus spawned by Umbrella Corp. Barry and Rebecca had been there, along with Claire and Carlos Olivera. Chris had stayed by her graveside all night that night, sitting vigil until the rain had started; even then Claire had had to drag him indoors by force.

He could still recall his overwhelming need to hold on to Jill in the helicopter ride back to the west African base, needing to keep her wrapped in his arms and able to feel her steady heartbeat in order to assure himself that she was really there with him, that it wasn't all a dream. Chris had sent word to the others, letting them know the good news. Despite the hell they'd just lived through, Chris had felt as though the world had been righted from a terrible upset, his stars realigned after drifting meaninglessly for over two years.

A heavy sigh drew Chris from the recesses of his memories. He watched as Jill shuffled the papers in front of her, agitation written across her face.

"You're workin' pretty hard over there," Chris commented, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the cold steel table top, a tiny flower of guilt blooming in the pit of his stomach. He really should have been working instead of reminiscing and ogling Jill.

Jill grinned, Chris detecting something very mischievous about the action. Gazing suspiciously at her, he quirked an eyebrow and asked, "What is it?"

She held up the sheaf of paper she had been working on for the past two hours. On it were various doodles, mostly weapons and fire. There was also a rather crudely drawn cartoon of Wesker, hair aflame, running about in a panic. Chris snickered, standing up and snatching the paper from Jill.

"This is so going on my fridge," he told her, taking a seat next to her as she flushed in embarrassed irritation.

"Watch it, Redfield, or I'll light you on fire for real," she warned, brandishing her pencil threateningly at him.

Chris once more studied the woman, reaching out subconsciously to tuck an errant strand of pale hair behind her ear. Jill blushed as his fingers grazed her cheek and Chris grinned, more grateful than words could express that she was her with him, sitting beside him. Slowly something occurred to him, a fact he had worked to repress, shied away from confronting after her disappearance for fear of the pain the realization would bring, since it seemed that he would never be able to tell her the truth. But now, the truth wouldn't be repressed: It was time to admit defeat, it seemed.

"Hey, Jill?"

"Yeah?" Jill turned to face him, innocent curiosity in her cerulean eyes. Before he could think himself out of the decision, Chris leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Jill pulled back, startled.

"What are you doing?!"

"There's just something I've been grappling with for a while, almost since the day I met you, in fact."

Jill continued to stare at him, confused, waiting for him to continue.

"I care about you, you know that," Chris stated, watching her nod slowly in consent. "The day you disappeared, when they filed you 'deceased'…I died too. I know that sounds corny as hell, but believe me: for three years it was like walking around missing my right arm or something. Having you back here I guess I just kind of realized…I love you, Jill Valentine. I always have."

Jill could only gape at him, face empty of any emotion besides shock. Then, suddenly, she lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and welding her lips to his. Chris kissed her fiercely, too many years of pent up emotion eclipsing the rational parts of his brain. He felt Jill smile into the kiss, and he smiled back, and soon the two broke apart, laughing too hard. This was the scene that Josh Stone walked in on, two hysterically cackling bioterrorism security agents leaning on each other for support.

"I guess sleep deprivation really does have some adverse effects," Josh stated, mild alarm present in his eyes. "Maybe you two should go home and get some rest."

Chris looked at Jill, reaching up to cup her cheek and speaking through his giggles. "I think he's right, perhaps we should go home."

Jill cocked an eyebrow, leaning towards him once more. "Get some rest?" She asked, eyes shining coyly.

"Well I don't know about that part," Chris replied, and the two broke out laughing once more as Josh backed slowly out of the room.

"C'mon, Valentine," Chris ordered, standing up and pulling her up with him. "Let's blow this popsicle stand. All in favor, say aye!"

Jill smiled and stretched up to press her lips once more to his. "Aye."

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**So the ending was majorly corny, but hopefully in a good way. Please review!!! I beg of you!!!! Thnx :D**


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